I was full of questions as I was escorted into the room to see the prisoner. When I asked what he had done at such an age to be in these circumstances, I was told that the information was classified. I have to admit my slight anxiety as I take my seat across from him. His hands are chained and they sit upon the table in front of him. He seems relaxed and ready to talk.
“Hello Johnny, how are you doing today?” I start off with what I feel is a simple question. He lifts his head and I finally get to see his face. His eyes blaze with intellect and courage and he holds perceptiveness about him. I watch as he observes me and I imagine my motives as well.
“I am very well, you see, I woke up here in chains,” his wrists raise, “had stitches in my face and couldn’t remember a thing. What could be better than that?” His response was dripping with sarcasm.
He slams his hands back onto the steel table as I am writing and I jump. I start to wonder if this boy is someone who enjoys the fear of other people and wait for him to smile at his triumph over me. At my surprise he gently pulls his hands from the table into his lap with a sincere apology.
“Sorry, wasn’t trying to scare you. Sometimes I get a little carried away, but it is so frustrating to be held against your own will and told nothing! It is heart wrenching to know where people are going…” His sentence trailed off into whispers as people sometimes do when they speak about painful things.
“What do you mean where people are going? I’m not following you Johnny.”
“Nothing, never mind,” he glances at the guard at the door, “I won’t have your blood on my hands.”
Clearly something is happening here and I attempt to get more information out of him. “Tell me about the other four of you.”
His eyes flash a guilt-ridden look that vanishes as soon as it appears. “The other four of us, you want to know about the other four of us?” He said slowly, sounding slightly confused.
“Yes of course, there are five of you in the project right? Well your one and then there are four more...” He cut me off right there,
“Oh, the other four, I see.” His breath came out in a big relieving gust.
“Yes the other kids here, who did you think I was talking about?” I flip through my notebook to where I jotted the case information down this last week. Scanning the page, my eyes follow my finger to where the number of kids was scribbled. I read silently to myself, ‘there are five kids in this new government project’. What did he mean by the other four? “Johnny?” He sighs and looks at me, lowering my voice to a whisper, “Are there more kids?” I ask, unsure if I even want to know.
Johnny’s eyes slide down to gaze at the corner of the table. “No there are only five of us.”
I can see by his actions that he knows something he wished he didn’t, I just have to ask the right questions. “You mean there are only five of you now, but was it always that way?”
As his eyes dart back to mine I can see him deciding what to tell me. He leans his head to the side, glances at the guard and begins shaking his head. His head swung back to face me and looking me dead in the eyes he said, “No, there was always only five of us and I need to get back to the other four.”
I watched as he stood up and dragged his chains to the guard who escorted him out the door. I sat there writing my notes and remember that look he gave me at the end; he made it so apparent that even a child would have known that last statement was a bold faced lie. There were more kids here…but what happened to them?
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