Injustice For The Sake Of Justice
Authored By: Bradley Chapline
Page Four
2003 - Revised 2022
Authored By: Bradley Chapline
Page Four
2003 - Revised 2022
I was scheduled to appear in Jacksonville District Court in two weeks. My commanding officer had ordered my platoon commander to take me himself to my court appearance. My lieutenant and I were standing in the corridor of the courthouse just outside of where I was to appear in several moments. The lieutenant told me, “Fuck these rednecks, Chapline! Stand hard and tall! If you are going to go down, go down like a true Marine!” I walked into the courtroom. The bailiff stated the docket number and then announced, “This is the case, your Honor, of the State of North Carolina vs. Bradley D. Chapline.” Chills went through my entire body. Judge Harvey Boney says to me sarcastically, “Well, well, well, Mr. Chapline, you finally stand in front of me. Non-support. What are we going to do about this?” I replied to Judge Boney, “No disrespect intended, your Honor, but I don’t think you are going to do a damn thing!” Two bailiffs started walking towards me. Judge Boney responds, “Well, you’re on your way to contempt being added on to everything else.” I said, “Your Honor, I have all my money order receipts to prove that I have supported my wife in accordance with military regulations. I have documents from a certified doctor stating I never abused my stepson. And finally, your Honor, I have documents to prove my wife has repeatedly made untrue and false accusations against me.” Judge Boney queries, “What do you mean…stepson?” I provided the judge with a copy of Michael’s birth certificate and a certified true copy of my military records that proved I could not have been the biological father of Michael. The judge stood up. He then ordered me to come back into his chambers. Once I got into the judge’s chambers I began to shed tears. Judge Boney put his arms around my shoulders. He said to me, “It looks like you got quite a case against your wife. I strongly recommend you report her to the Department of Social Services for welfare fraud. I’m out of your jurisdiction with the exception of enforcing a support order against you. I am going to order that you continue paying the same amount per month you have been. But, instead of paying in money orders, I am ordering you to take out a military allotment.” Judge Boney stated to me that he was sorry he couldn’t do more for me.
I did not hear from Debbie for approximately a year. I spent most of this time overseas on military obligations. I became aware that Debbie had moved from Essex back to Highlandtown near her parents’ house off Potomac Street. I was scheduled for leave and I assured my mom that I was straightening up my act. I did not want to see Debbie because my anger with her had only multiplied. I was glad that I was finally getting the opportunity to come back home to the house that my dad had basically built. Things only went well between my mom and me for just a day. My brother had just graduated from the Maryland State Highway Patrol. He still lived at home with my mom, and we still hated each other. My mom kept driving my mistakes into the ground that I had made in getting involved with Debbie. I finally told my mother to get off my back about it and leave me alone. An argument ensued between the two of us. I left the house in a rage and went out to meet with my old hoodlum friends.
As usual, we were partying and we became highly intoxicated. I had decided at around 1:00am in the morning that I would now return home to my mom’s house. She heard me come in. She was not feeling well because recently she was released from the hospital after having an operation on her foot. She knew I was drunk. She told me to get out and not to come back. I admitted that I had been drinking but argued that I hadn’t done anything wrong and that I had no intent of causing any trouble. She began screaming at me, “Get out! Get the hell out!!!” I told my mom that I didn’t have anywhere to stay. Once again my mom yells, “Get out! Get out! Get the hell out of my house!!!” My older brother, David, hears the commotion from his upstairs bedroom. He comes down to the front door where I am standing. David says to me, “What are you doing to mom?” I told Dave that I hadn’t done anything wrong. He accused me, “You’re drunk, aren’t you?” I arrogantly said, “Yeah, what about it, punk?!” David then orders me, “Get your stuff and leave!” I said, “Who the fuck are you?!” He grabs the back of my neck and force escorts me up the stairs where my military bags were located. David said to me, “You get out and don’t come back! If you do, I’ll have you arrested. That will be my first act as a police officer.” I snarl back at him, “Yeah, that may well be, but you won’t do it before I kick your mother fucking ass!!!” I spun around and started throwing punch after punch into his face. He was getting ready to fall when I felt a hand grab my belt on the back of my pants. Without hesitation, I turned around and hit this person in the head. I then realized it was my mother that I had hit. Unbeknownst to me, she had crawled up the stairs to try to stop me from beating Dave up. I didn’t mean to have hit her. My brother, David, said, “If you hit your own mother, then I know you beat up your own stepson, Michael.” I said, “Yeah, I guess you all would think that.” I grabbed my sea and clothing bags and left my mom’s house. I had nowhere to stay. I walked back into the gravel banks that were behind the house where I grew up. I had some wonderful memories of this area in my early childhood years with my first love. I walked approximately two miles back on this dirt road that I had once known so well. I was exhausted. I felt like I couldn’t take another step. I laid my bags down to the ground. I utilized my bags as pillows and then stretched out and went to sleep in the dirt. I woke up at approximately 11:15am the next morning. I felt like I had not taken a shower in months. I had cotton mouth terribly. I searched through my bag until I found my toothbrush and toothpaste. I then built up the spit in my mouth until I had enough saliva to effectively brush my teeth and subside that terrible taste and smell.
While in the middle of brushing my teeth a gravel truck comes passing me. He appeared to give me a look of complete shock. I had toothpaste dripping from my mouth down to my chin when I notice the driver of this truck stops his vehicle and gets out. He approaches the rear of his truck and asks me, “Hey, man, are you alright?” I replied to him, “Fuck, can’t a man have a little privacy in brushing his mother fucking teeth?” The driver ran back to his cab and drove off. I figured it was best if I left this area immediately. I was thinking to myself, “Shit, what is up with me? I even get thrown out of the fucking gravel banks.”
I decided that I would go back to the Williams’ house and ask Mr. Williams to forgive me tor attempting to kill his son. When I arrived at their house Mr. Williams was not home. He owned a pretty large company by the name of Williams Crane Service. His wife, Peg, was the brains and the power of this company. I talked to Peg and she allowed me to come back and stay at their home. Mr. Williams really didn’t have a say so in the matter. Later in the day Mike got home from work. We picked up, once again, as friends. There was no longer a problem between Mike Williams and myself. We both accepted the facts. We got into a fight. He knocked me out and left me for dead in the snowdrift. I survived, and then I tried to kill him. We were quickly back to being best friends again. Mike and I had a lot of catching up to do on the times. Mike said one night he came down to my apartment in Essex to meet up with me. He said he didn’t know that I had left Debbie. He said Debbie had invited him in and had sexually seduced him. Mike told me that he had sex with Debbie but that was the only time. Mike told me that Debbie was already then living with another guy. He further told me that Debbie relayed to him that she was moving into a row house in Highlandtown. The row house was on East Gough Street. By that information alone, I knew Mike was telling me the truth. I asked Mike if I could borrow his pickup truck and one of his 30/30 Winchester rifles. I preferred the 30/30 with the scope. Mike asked me what I was planning. I told Mike, “Well, if everything is right, I’m going to shoot the bitch and her boyfriend.” Mike said, “Okay, Chap, but I’m coming with you.”
Mike and I loaded up two 30/30 Winchester rifles, and about 50 rounds of ammunition, and a pair of binoculars. The Gough Street house was located on the bottom of a hill in the “white slums” of Baltimore. We knew she occupied the second and third floors of this row house. We also knew that Michael’s bedroom was on the third floor. There was no doubt that my shots would have to be extremely accurate. There could be absolutely no mistakes. No rounds could possibly stray up into the third floor where Michael was. Mike and I found the perfect location for firing for effect on Debbie. There was an open alleyway running vertically up the hill directly across the street from Debbie’s residence. We parked at the top of the hill. The distance from the truck to Debbie’s residence was well within the maximum effective range of this weapon and my capabilities as a Marine shooter. I was a crackerjack shot with a rifle. I was now assured that the location was perfect and there was no way that a stray bullet could go into Michael’s bedroom. Mike and I scoped out Debbie’s residence for approximately four and a half hours. It was now approximately 1:15am in the morning. The time was right. On the second floor Debbie had paper pull down curtains. I now saw the silhouette image of Debbie and her boyfriend embracing. Their images were highlighted as targets because the room light was on. I told Mike to stay in the truck and be ready to drive off. I took the 30/30 Winchester rifle with the scope and seven rounds and jumped into the bed of his pickup truck. I used the roof of the cab to stabilize my sight-in on these two mother fuckers. I was now perfectly sighted in on the female silhouette behind this window. I squeezed off a perfect shot. I knew for sure the bitch was dead. Without hesitation, after squeezing off the first round, I squeezed off the second round hitting the male silhouette in the torso. I then laid down in the bed of the truck and Mike was now speeding away from Debbie’s residence. I was now celebrating. I knew I had done Debbie in. I also had a high degree of certainty that her boyfriend was either dead or took a major hit.