PERSONAL JUSTICE by Ramlee Awang Murshid

52

CHINATOWN, NEW YORK

16 October 2000 - 8.30 p.m.

HILMAN locked himself in his room. All the lights in the room were deliberately switched off. The only source of light came from the television. The room was dusky and gloomy. The television that Hilman rented from the landlord, sat on the table near the window. It would be convenient for Hilman to keep track of President Jack William's progress. Hilman didn't want to share the television in the lounge. The programs shown were, sometimes, not the ones he wanted to see. 

At this very moment, Hilman examined his Swift rifle he bought earlier at Little Italy. He tried on the trigger with the barrel aimed straight forward. Click! The hammer was heard. Then Hilman inserts a bullet in. He went to the window and scouted outside. He searched for a target to test the rifle. 

A menthol neon light, at the end of the road, caught his attention. Then Hilman raised the barrel up. He shut his left eye and positioned his right eye behind the telescope mounted parallel to the barrel. Hilman controlled his breathing, exhaled softly, and controlled his hands. The neon menthol light was his target. Hilman felt comfortable and ready to fire, his finger tightened on the trigger. 

Supp! A shot was fired. The silencer absorbed the sound of the shot. The bullet flew rapidly through the air. Within two seconds, the neon menthol light exploded to pieces. Hilman was right on target. 

Hilman drew a long breath. His face showed no sign of cheerfulness. The smile on his lips seemed to have died. But, at the same time, the face of his darling daughter, Jeslina, appeared before his very eyes. Slowly, the image disappeared replaced by President Jack William's. Hilman's face changed. Serious. The lines on his face showed clearly. His vengeance was set on fire. 

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THE CNN News came on the air. Hilman returned the rifle to its black bag, specially catered for the rifle, after dismantling the telescope. He placed the bullets in the same bag, set in a row from top to bottom. Moments later, Hilman was lying in bed watching the news. 

President Jack William's mug appeared. A female newscaster read about the president's remarkable efforts. Hilman bit his lips when he saw Jack William's face. His anger intensified. Then, the First Lady's image appeared along with several other Democrats who worked hard for the coming general election on November 7. Hilman watched Mary Lynn's face with sympathy. Sorry that she had a stage actor for a husband. Then, suddenly, their daughter, Kyra, appeared on the TV screen. 

Hilman froze when he saw her smile. Kyra's face morphed into Jeslina in his mind. Sorrow began to weigh in his heart. Suddenly, his sorrow disappeared when the face of Baldwin Jr. from the Republican Party - President Jack William's main challenger - appeared on the TV screen. 

Beside the newscaster's voice that echoed in the room, the drone of the old ceiling fan whizzing above broke Hilman's allusion. Now and then the night breeze invaded the room. Hilman was still on the bed. The room felt warm, though the temperature in the city was almost 10° degrees Celsius, from the highest temperature of 12° degrees Celsius. 

The news on air just brushed against Hilman's ear. Nevertheless, he was still aware of anything important about Jack William. Whatever it was, his visit to Civic Center on October 18 still remained unchanged. On that date, he would make his final score against the man who was the United States President. 

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AFTER almost half an hour of news about the general election and the campaigns launched by both the Democrat and Republican parties, the topic moved to talk about two victims who were shot that evening in the west of New York. The faces that appeared on the screen stunned Hilman. They belonged to Mia Sara and Grace. Hilman sat up and inched towards the bed edge, concentrating fully on the current news.