Bitter Disconnect

By Kristin George

When Craig Banks is found with a bloody knife weeping over his sister's lifeless body, the eye-witness account from his brother Chad makes for an open-and-shut case.

 

Sitting on death row for first-degree murder, Craig loses everything he loves: his fiancée, his friends, his law career, and any chance at a future. Even if he did manage to be released, he would never be treated the same.

 

Despite the overwhelmingly incriminating evidence against him, Craig's mother never misses a Sunday visit, and her faith in him allows him the hope to continue his life, even if it is behind bars.

 

When new revelations about the murder of Lizzie Banks surface, can forgiveness and unconditional love overcome the ultimate betrayal?

• Language: English
• Publisher: eLectio Publishing
• Release date: Jan 2, 2023
• ISBN: 9781632133397

Book preview

BITTER DISCONNECT

KRISTIN GEORGE

eLectio Publishing

Little Elm, TX

www.eLectioPublishing.com

Bitter Disconnect

By Kristin George

Copyright 2017 by Kristin George. All rights reserved.

Cover Design by eLectio Publishing.

ISBN-13: 978-1-63213-339-7

Published by eLectio Publishing, LLC

Little Elm, Texas

http://www.eLectioPublishing.com

5 4 3 2 1 eLP 21 20 19 18 17

The eLectio Publishing creative team is comprised of: Kaitlyn Campbell, Emily Certain, Lori Draft, Court Dudek, Jim Eccles, Sheldon James, and Christine LePorte.

Without limiting the rights under copyright reserved above, no part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in or introduced into a retrieval system, or transmitted, in any form, or by any means (electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording, or otherwise), without the prior written permission of both the copyright owner and the above publisher of this book.

The scanning, uploading, and distribution of this book via the Internet or via any other means without the permission of the publisher is illegal and punishable by law. Please purchase only authorized electronic editions, and do not participate in or encourage electronic piracy of copyrighted materials. Your support of the author’s rights is appreciated.

Publisher’s Note

The publisher does not have any control over and does not assume any responsibility for author or third-party websites or their content.

This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents either are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, business establishments, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.

Table of Contents

Dedications

Prologue

December 19, 2002

Chapter One

December 21, 2002

Chapter Two

Chapter Three

Chapter Four

Chapter Five

Chapter Six

Chapter Seven

Chapter Eight

Chapter Nine

Chapter Ten

Chapter Eleven

Chapter Twelve

Chapter Thirteen

Chapter Fourteen

Chapter Fifteen

Chapter Sixteen

Chapter Seventeen

Chapter Eighteen

Chapter Nineteen

Chapter Twenty

Chapter Twenty-One

Chapter Twenty-Two

Chapter Twenty-Three

Chapter Twenty-Four

Chapter Twenty-Five

Chapter Twenty-Six

Chapter Twenty-Seven

Chapter Twenty-Eight

Chapter Twenty-Nine

Chapter Thirty

Chapter Thirty-One

Chapter Thirty-Two

Chapter Thirty-Three

Chapter Thirty-Four

Chapter Thirty-Five

Chapter Thirty-Six

Chapter Thirty-Seven

Chapter Thirty-Eight

Chapter Thirty-Nine

Chapter Forty

Chapter Forty-One

Chapter Forty-Two

Chapter Forty-Three

Chapter Forty-Four

Chapter Forty-Five

Chapter Forty-Six

Chapter Forty-Seven

Chapter Forty-Eight

Chapter Forty-Nine

Chapter Fifty

Chapter Fifty-One

Epilogue

About the Author

Dedications

First and foremost, I would like to dedicate this book to the one who provided me with the gift of writing. In Matthew 25:23, we are told the parable of the talents. Those God blesses with many talents are in turn expected to use those talents and multiply them. Some day, I want to be told Well done, good and faithful servant. You have been faithful over a little; I will set you over much. Enter into the joy of your master. It is because of this that I dedicate my life’s work and my writing to God. The words flow from His mouth through me and I will dedicate my life to be used as His vessel and for His glory.

Second, I would like to dedicate these writings to my husband, Ben George, who has remained faithful and dutiful to me through all we have traversed. After I was diagnosed with five chronic illnesses as well as chronic migraines, we faced a difficult road ahead and have been through more than most twenty-seven-year-olds must endure. Yet my husband has stayed by my side through each step of the way, encouraging me, motivating me, and most of all, believing in me. It is because of him that I have written and published a children’s book called Ruger Tails, as he encouraged me to pursue my dreams and my passions. The greatest gift he ever gave me aside from his unconditional love is my laptop—the laptop on which I wrote the entirety of this book. It is because of him that I had the desire, motivation, and encouragement to finish this book. It is because of him and his hard work that I can stay home and pursue my dreams of being a writer. I love you, sweetie, more than you could ever know, and thank you for all you do for me.

Lastly, I would like to dedicate this book to my mother, Pam Hamilton, my father, Keith Hamilton, and my sister, Stephanie Hamilton. My family has believed in me, supported me, encouraged me, and motivated me more than I could ever imagine. They have loved me despite challenging times and have seen me through my greatest trials and tribulations. My mother has lent an ear when I needed one, let me vent when necessary, taken me to countless doctor’s appointments, and been there when I needed her most. She has never once complained and has always treated me with the utmost kindness and respect. She truly is the Proverbs 31 woman and her children arise and call her blessed. My father taught me the value of hard work through his thirty-year service to the United States Navy. It is because of him that became who I am and it is because of his service and his Godly example that I have embarked upon this path. He taught me to pray earnestly, seek God first, and surrender my everything to Him. Lastly, my sister has called me countless times to mentor me and to study God’s word with me. Even though she is my younger sister, I look up to her more than most older sisters would as she is a light in this otherwise dark world. She has faced her own serious challenges in life and I have been astounded by her humble and servant-like response to the difficulties she has encountered. My family has been my rock and my support. I owe them all of the gratitude and thanks in the world. Please accept this dedication as a token of my love and thankfulness for all the help and support you have provided me.

To everyone else whom I could not name, please know that you have been instrumental in my life and have helped me blossom and grow my career as a writer. To everyone who has helped me through the struggles of becoming published, read my writings, and provided critiques, thank you eternally for your love, kindness, and support.

Prologue

December 19, 2002

Emerging from the bathroom, I felt eyes all over me, watching my every movement. Goose bumps pricked my arms as an icy chill ran through my body. I walked through the hallway, trembling. I felt oddly as if I were in a horror movie. I couldn’t describe why I felt this way, but something wasn’t right.

You’re being silly, Elizabeth. I shook my head, trying to shake the strange feeling along with it.

Craig? Chad? I called out, but nobody answered.

Shrugging, I slowly walked toward my bedroom and closed the door, trying to ignore the frightening sensation. As I turned, I shrieked loudly as a human figure appeared from behind the door. When I quickly recognized my brother, I sighed.

You scared me! I laughingly scolded my brother. What are you doing in here? Wh . . . Why are you looking at me like that? I bit my quivering lip.

But he didn’t answer. He just stared at me. The hairs on my neck stood up when I saw the fury in his eyes. He’d never looked at me like that before.

You . . . You’re scaring me . . . I sputtered. What’s going on?

All of a sudden, he lunged at me as he pulled a huge knife from behind his back. Screaming, I bolted from the room, charging down the staircase with my brother following terrifyingly close behind. His footsteps pounded against the stairs and echoed throughout the entrance hall. My heart mirrored his footsteps as it hammered against my chest, sweat dripping down my face. But I had to keep running. I had to get away. My life depended on it. My foot caught on one of the stairs and sent me stumbling toward the hardwood floor. I cried out, my throat burning from the weight of my scream. As I collapsed on the floor, he moved closer to me. I felt his hot breath melting against my shoulder blades as he towered above me.

Please . . . Please don’t hurt me, I cried, curling into a helpless ball on the floor.

And then he smiled at me. Not in a loving, affectionate way. There was so much hate behind that smile. His downturned eyebrows caused his whole face to wrinkle, and my stomach tightened as fresh tears streamed down my face.

Little miss perfect, he snickered, his green eyes glaring through me, examining me. You always had to do everything right and Mom was so proud of you. His smile immediately turned into a scowl. With warm spit flying out of his mouth, he continued. You always stole Mom’s attention! You never gave anyone else a chance to be noticed! I was here too, you know! Did you ever notice me? Did you ever care about me? No, you only cared about how much Mom loved you!

I cringed as warm spit spewed across my body with each angry word he spoke. My brother’s spit mixed with my tears and ran down my quivering cheek. I . . . I didn’t mean to. I just wanted Mommy to love me . . . to be proud of me . . . I’m sorry! I cried.

Shut up! he screamed, pulling something from his back pocket.

Cowering, I hid my face, thinking he was pulling out the knife. A scratchy sound echoed through the empty room as I heard something rip. My hands were thrust behind me forcefully as thick, sticky tape grabbed my hands, gluing them together behind my back. I wiggled and struggled to move, but that just made him even angrier. He wrapped the tape around my wrists over and over again until my fingers went numb; my fingertips tingled as I felt blood slowly leaving them. Forcefully, he grabbed my feet and wound tape around them until I screamed out in pain.

Why are you doing this? I begged him, sobbing so hard I could barely breathe.

You’ll never take her attention away from me again, you little brat! She’s finally going to notice me! Everyone is! He slapped me across the cheek. Heat rushed to my face and I could taste blood pouring into my mouth as I bit into my cheek. I yelped as he grabbed my legs and dragged me into the living room. A screech echoed throughout the room as I dug my nails into the hardwood floor. I felt the waxy surface of the floor moving underneath my fingernails as he pulled me along like the lifeless body I knew I would soon be. Tossing and turning, I struggled to get free. I struggled to not become that lifeless body.

He dragged me to the carpeted living room and I was sure this was where I was going to die. I sobbed harder than I have in my whole life. My mind raced, knowing that I had to come up with a plan. If I hurt him enough, maybe, just maybe, I could break free. Without even thinking—before I could lose confidence—I clawed at him and caught the back of his hand, digging my short nails in as hard as I could. As he screamed, I sat up as quickly as I could with the tape binding my wrists and ankles. Leaning forward, I bit him in the shoulder, hoping to draw blood. He lashed at me, wrapping his strong hands around my neck. He gripped tighter and tighter. I could feel the life being drained from my body as I gasped for breath. Just as I thought this was it, this was the way I was going to die, he stopped. His hands released me from his terrifying grasp. For now, he was done with me. But instead of walking away, instead of giving up, he reached into a case clasped onto his belt. And there it was again. The knife.

I moved back and forth frantically, each movement causing more pain. I felt like a fish flopping around on the carpet as my knuckles dug into my back. He smirked as I saw him raise the knife above his head. I knew that he was going to kill me.

I howled in pain as he plunged the knife deep into my stomach repeatedly. The room became fuzzy and I was too weak to cry out again. I slowly gave in, allowing him to take control of my body. But before I gave up completely, I looked at the distorted version of my brother and mouthed the word why as my head hit the warm padded floor and my eyes closed for the last time. The final thing I saw was a wicked smile plastered across my brother’s face while he casually cut me open like a piece of meat.

Chapter One

December 21, 2002

Judge John Richardson cleared his throat, his shaky white hand clutching the gavel and slowly striking it against the bench.

Please state your name for the court. The judge looked at the defendant through his glasses.

Craig Banks, Your Honor. His hands shook violently as he spoke.

Mr. Banks, I will now ask the prosecution to read the charges against you. Were you given a copy of said charges?

Yes, Your Honor.

Very well. Counselor. He nodded to the prosecuting attorney.

Hannah Clark was newer to the field of law than the defense attorney, Mark Billingsly, who had been practicing for decades. Like every green lawyer, she firmly believed she could make a difference in the world. With confidence, the young lawyer stood poised and unflappable.

The defendant, Craig Banks, is accused of one count of murder in the first degree. He is also charged with one count of aggravated assault with a deadly weapon. The victim, Elizabeth Banks, was murdered with a hunting knife in the Banks’s residence two nights ago on December nineteenth.

Mr. Banks, have you selected an attorney to represent you in these proceedings?

Your Honor, I will be representing Craig Banks for the duration of this trial. Mark Billingsly rose and faced the judge. He wore a custom-tailored suit and his eyes told a different story than Hannah’s. Not so green to the world of law, Mark had learned what every established lawyer already knew—one person couldn’t make a difference. The first thing they had been taught in law school was that ethical and legal weren’t the same thing. Law wasn’t about who was guilty and who was innocent. No, it was about so much more than that. It was about who could give the best argument, put on the best show. The prosecuting and defense attorneys tangoed in front of the jury, each trying to lead. The true winner wasn’t the one who proved guilt or innocence, but the one who proved power and authority, presenting the most reasonably believable case—not the one with the most validity.

Have you informed your client of his rights? The judge peered at Mark.

Yes, Your Honor.

And how does the defendant plead? Judge Richardson stared intently at Craig.

Not guilty, Your Honor, Craig answered, his voice wavering. Sweat beaded along his forehead and his clammy hands shook by his sides.

Does the prosecution request or deny bail for the defendant?

Your Honor, based on the severity of the charges and the evidence the investigators have acquired, we request for bail to be denied. This crime was exceptionally brutal. Ten-year-old Elizabeth Banks was found dead on arrival with her wrists and ankles bound in duct tape and she was stabbed nineteen times in the abdomen. There was an eyewitness to the murder, Chad Banks, who found Craig kneeling over Elizabeth’s body. When Fairfax County police officers arrived, Craig was found kneeling over Elizabeth holding a bloody knife. Blood was also found covering his hands and his T-shirt. Due to this incriminating evidence and the heinous nature of the crime, we feel that Craig Banks should not be allowed to reenter the general public, as he poses a grave danger to the community.

Does the defense agree to this request?

No, Your Honor. Craig’s prior record is spotless and he is a fine and upstanding citizen of the community. He is a diligent law student at Georgetown University and he works as a paralegal in a prestigious DC law firm. His ties to the community and his strong, attentive work ethic do not make him a flight risk. We request the defendant be released on his own recognizance.

Due to the serious nature of the charges against the defendant, I tend to agree with the prosecution. I am denying bail. This case will proceed to a preliminary hearing on January eighth, two thousand three.

Craig rested his aching head against the cold metal bars, rust falling on his disheveled chocolate-brown hair. A musty smell tickled his nose and goose bumps pricked his arms. The dingy cell was chilly and Craig could hear water leaking from the rattling pipes. He shivered as he heard the words that kept him from sleeping at night, replaying them in his head repeatedly. "I am denying bail." Judge Richardson had banged his gavel against the bench, the sound vibrating through Craig’s entire body. His ears rang from the reverberation while he was silently led from the courtroom. With those words, all Craig could hear was guilty. It flashed in bold, bright letters in front of him every time he closed his eyes. Even before the trial began, Craig was never going to be given a fighting chance—in everyone’s eyes, he was a murderer.

Craig knew he should be thinking about the charges he faced. He knew the case against him was serious, incriminating, and believable. But he couldn’t focus on the investigation right now. The only thing that was consuming him was her. He pulled out a picture—the only personal effect they had allowed him to keep—from underneath his shabby pillow and rubbed his calloused hands over the waxy photograph. Her long golden hair waved in the breeze as she stood smiling on a white, sandy beach. Her peach sundress billowed around her as the wind whipped the frilly, paisley material. Craig had taken the picture when they went on a day trip to Virginia Beach one Saturday last summer. Emma’s crystal blue eyes glistened, mirroring the turquoise ocean. Her eyes held so much love, so much passion, and when she looked at him, it was like there was nobody else in the world. It was the only thing that made him smile despite the hopeless situation he faced. That look helped him get through each day, knowing that he could overcome any obstacle as long as she loved him and believed in him. But she would never believe in him again. Not anymore.

Craig’s ears buzzed as inmates shouted and banged against the iron bars, begging to be released. The men sounded like trapped animals as they yelled and rattled their cages. He covered his ears, trying to drown out the incessant noise. His thoughts slowly drifted to that cold December afternoon just a week ago today.

A blast of frosty wind surged down King Street as Craig walked into King’s Jewelry. The small bell chimed as he entered and an old man looked up from behind the register.

Hi there! he said cheerfully, a toothy grin emerging on his weathered face. I’m Tom. How can I help you? he asked politely.

Craig smiled. I would like to take a look at some of your engagement rings.

Tom’s face lit up. What’s her name, son?

Emma. Craig chuckled. Even the mention of her name made him giddy.

What a pretty name! Well, come over here. I have an array of very special rings to show you. I’m sure you’ll find the perfect one. Tom led Craig to a large glass display case filled with dozens of diamonds twinkling under the fluorescent lighting.

These are all so beautiful! Craig gasped, imagining the way Emma’s face would sparkle when he placed one of these rings on her finger.

What cut and weight were you thinking about?

A princess-cut diamond. Emma has expensive and contemporary taste. He chuckled. She always dreamed of having a princess-cut ring. I was thinking about something with a halo around the diamond. I think that’s what it’s called. He frowned, trying to remember the terminology. Emma saw a ring like that in a magazine and she couldn’t stop gushing.

He smiled, remembering the way her face brightened at the sight of the gorgeous ring. He wanted to make sure she was just as happy with the ring he gave her—that it was just as special.

As far as weight goes, maybe a half a carat or even a three-quarter carat if the price is right. I don’t have a ton of money. Craig sheepishly grinned. I’m still in law school so money is pretty tight, but I just couldn’t wait to settle down with Emma. She’s the one. He beamed.

Tom smiled from ear to ear. You don’t see commitment like that these days. She must be a special girl.

She is, Craig said, sighing. He slowly scanned the case when his eyes fell on a modest princess-cut diamond set in a white gold band. Micro pavé diamonds surrounded the stone, making the diamond appear much bigger and grander than it really was.

Can I take a look at that one? Craig asked, pointing at the ring.

Of course. Tom held up the stunning ring with a brilliant diamond protruding from the center. The band was white gold with small diamonds encasing the side of the ring.

It’s perfect, Craig gasped, almost speechless.

He couldn’t wait to get down on one knee and ask Emma to spend the rest of her life with him.

Do you want to look at any others? Tom gazed from the ring to Craig.

No, this is the one. He smiled. I’ll take it.

Craig was brought back to reality when a guard gruffly yelled down the hallway. His footsteps echoed through the hollow warehouse as he carefully examined each cell, taking inventory of the inmates.

Banks and Donovan. Are you present? he barked.

Yes, both of the inmates replied in unison.

The guard’s voice trailed off as he finished inspection of the premises.

So what are you in for? I’m Troy, by the way. Craig’s cellmate stared down at him from the top bunk.

Craig groaned. I didn’t do it, he said testily, resting his head against the white cement wall.

That’s what they all say, Troy laughed. I’m innocent too. He rolled his eyes. Seriously, why are you here?

They think I murdered my sister. Craig stared at the floor.

Troy winced and moved closer to the wall. Man, he whispered. I’m only here for aggravated assault with a deadly weapon and armed robbery. Nothing like murder. I thought my crime was bad enough.

I told you I didn’t do it, Craig seethed.

Okay. Okay. Troy held up his hands in mock surrender. What’d you do before you . . . uh . . . you know, didn’t murder your sister?

Even though he was stuck in an infinitesimal cell with an alleged murderer, Troy didn’t seem fazed. It seemed like he was used to being around criminals.

I am . . . or I guess I was . . . a law student at Georgetown. Ironic, huh? I’ve spent the past year learning to uphold the law and convict those who don’t, yet I’m the one sitting in prison awaiting a trial for a crime I didn’t commit. A murder, no less. He shook his head despairingly.

Yeah, I know what you mean, Troy chuckled. This is my third time being incarcerated. I have a baby girl and her mama that I’ve gotta take care of. That’s why I stole those things. To support them. But does the judge care about that? Of course not. He scowled. The law never does. My old man was never around to help my mom take care of us and I wanted to be different—to be there for my kid. But I guess I’m just the same. He laughed sheepishly, a slight frown forming on his tanned face. My dad was in and out of jail my entire life. And I guess I’m no better. Troy’s light brown hair shined blue under the bright fluorescent lighting. His face was weathered more than his age of twenty-five; the dark purple circles encasing his eyes made him look ten years his senior.

Craig sighed. My dad was never around either. He was never in jail but he should have been. He subconsciously touched the raised scar on his left forearm. A scar left by one of his father’s drinking binges.

Glass shattered as Craig’s father, Lou, threw an empty beer bottle at Craig. Ducking, he narrowly escaped a blow to the back of his head.

Get back here! Lou screamed at the top of his lungs as he grabbed another bottle and took a large swig from it, quickly emptying that bottle as well. He charged at Craig like an angry bull, this time making sure he didn’t miss. Lou grabbed his son by the wrist, slamming the bottle into his arm. Craig squealed in pain as broken glass shattered against his forearm and blood gushed from the open wound.

Stop it, Lou! Craig’s mother, Mary Ann, screamed from the corner where she lay with deep gashes on her cheek. Dark yellow and green bruises covered her arms, left from Lou’s previous beatings. She slowly mustered the strength to get up, holding her side as she walked. Shielding Craig, Mary Ann took a harsh blow to her head, knocking her unconscious. Craig cowered against the wall as his father moved closer, an evil smile spreading across his face. It was as if he took pleasure in seeing his family suffer—in making sure he was in control.

Craig wished this incident was a one-time thing, but it happened all too frequently. His father would come home from the bar nearly every night and release his frustration on his helpless family. It used to be just on weekends and holidays. But now, the beatings never ended. Luckily, six-month-old Elizabeth had never been subjected to her father’s irate tirades. Mary Ann always secured the baby behind a locked door, hiding the key underneath the couch cushions to ensure that Lou never got his hands on her precious Elizabeth. Oh, he tried. But Mary Ann would undergo brutal beatings just to protect her young children. Yet she couldn’t always protect the boys. Sadly, thirteen-year-old twins Craig and Chad were not exempt from their father’s terrifying drinking binges. When Mary Ann would become unconscious or could not physically withstand the pain any longer, Lou would shift his rage onto the twins.

To prove that he was in control, as if his beatings did not already signify his authority, Lou had never let Mary Ann work, fearing that she might leave him. She was hardly allowed to go to the store alone. While Lou gambled away their money and spent it on an endless supply of booze, Mary Ann could hardly leave the house. She was a prisoner in her own home.

Mary Ann would have never married this man if she knew how awful he really was. He had been kind, gentle, and sweet when she first met him. He hadn’t shown any signs of aggression. But after they had been married for a few years, everything changed. Lou slowly began gambling and drinking, which quickly led to his vicious outbursts. They were only every once in a while, at first, and Lou promised to change. He begged Mary Ann to stay and she foolishly did, thinking that if they had a family together, Lou would get his act together. But he slowly grew worse, the stress of having children making him drink even more. He didn’t even apologize anymore.

Craig remembered one night when he heard his dad screaming at his mom for taking an hour at the grocery store. Mary Ann had left the kids with a babysitter and Lou came home from work before she could get back to the house.

How many times have I told you not to be out so late? Sunday is your grocery day. I allow you one day a week to yourself. Isn’t that enough? He looked incredulous. And how could you leave our children with a total stranger?

She’s not a stranger, Lou. She’s our next-door neighbor. Mrs. Stellar loves the kids, she replied angrily. I had to go to the store for milk. We were out and you have been bellyaching for three days about how we need milk. What was I supposed to do? she screamed.

Don’t talk back to me! Lou raised his voice and his right fist clenched, his eyes growing wider at Mary Ann’s brazenness—something she rarely expressed.

I’m sorry . . . Lou. It won’t happen again. Mary Ann cowered, knowing what was coming next.

It better not. He slapped her across the face with his bare hand.

Mary Ann knew better than to scream or cry out. She had made that mistake too many times. Craig could hear the sound of Lou’s palm connecting with his mother’s cheek as it echoed through the walls. He cringed, knowing the pain his mother was feeling. Not just physical pain. The pain ran so much deeper than that. The real pain was in knowing that someone you thought was there to love and protect you could betray you so easily, so callously. And if that wasn’t enough, it seemed as if Lou Banks enjoyed it.

Despite Lou’s protests, Mary Ann had always tried to take the children to church. Whenever Lou was passed out, she would bathe them and dress them in their finest outfits and take them to the local Baptist church down the street. Lou was usually still hung over or asleep when they returned, so he never even found out about their weekly outings. And if he ever did, she could blame it on her weekly grocery store trip, as she always stopped on the way home to get a few bags of groceries as proof of her whereabouts.

Sunday morning was the only day Craig looked forward to. He remembered sitting in Sunday school when he was just five years old. The teacher asked if anyone wanted to accept Jesus into their heart. Craig slowly raised his hand and prayed to ask Jesus to save him from his sins and come into his heart for eternity. His mom had been so happy for him, hugging